


What You Want, You Have

by Cristinuke



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Frottage, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rimming, Torture, Whump!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 10:44:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1384678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cristinuke/pseuds/Cristinuke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint gets captured and tortured. Phil finds and helps him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Want

**Author's Note:**

> Clint gets brutally tortured.
> 
>  
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely varjohaltija. :)

He wanted Phil.

He'd been dumb enough to get caught, and this was the price.

Phil probably would have frowned at him for his use of self-deprecation. Phil didn't like it when Clint put himself down, but Clint couldn't help it right now.

Clint hurt so much, and all he could think about was how much he wished he was with Phil right now. He could feel blood dripping along every inch of his skin.

He was having a hard time breathing; he was strung up by wrists that had long been dislocated from their joints, and he hadn't been able to hold his own weight since shortly after that. He knew he should at least try to get his feet under him so that he could take a deep breath, but the last time he tried, he almost blacked out again. Just thinking about it sent stabs of pain through the burnt soles of his feet where they had made him stand on burning coals. He could still smell the burning flesh every now and again.

Clint had lost the ability to scream when they'd completely shredded his back and ass with a metal-studded cat 'o nines; he could actually feel how the flesh had ripped and torn apart with each swing of the whip. He'd lost the ability to make any other whimpering noises when his legs had been gripped tight and the edge of a blunt knife had been driven into the muscle, and the back of his calves had been flayed open, the skin peeling along dozens of deep, long gashes that never seemed to end.

Phil would have probably been impressed with the knowledge of the act, but probably would have scoffed at the methods of the application. It wasn't precise or neat like Phil likes.

Clint had thought he was going to die when they'd stabbed burning needles through his cock and balls, and then left them there so that Clint would feel them with every twitch or jerk of his body. Clint thought he _had_ died when they shoved a pear-shaped object, too-big, into his ass, and then it turned out that they could somehow expand the sharp spikes inside the pear until his insides were impaled with metal, tearing apart his rectum. Clint could feel the blood sliding down his thighs,- that had to be too much blood. How could he lose that much blood?

Phil would know how much blood he would have to lose. Phil would know how to prevent further blood loss. He'd stop the bleeding and figure a way to get out of this place. Phil was not here.

Clint had forgotten his own name. He'd long forgotten his SHIELD number, but he'd been surprised, momentarily before he had felt the snap of electricity on his destroyed shoulder blade, that he'd forgotten who he was. Never mind why he was here, or what they were after.

The only thing he could think about was how much he wanted Phil.

Clint coughed, and more blood dribbled down his chin. How could he still have blood? He should have run out by now. He shouldn't have been caught in the first place.

Every time he'd passed out, when the pain had just been too much, they had woken him up effectively; sometimes it was ice cold water, other times the water was boiling hot. Clint hated the hot water the most, because it only emphasized the open wounds that still kept bleeding. Then again, the cold brought on violent shivers that brought even more pain as he shook uncontrollably, jostling every needle, every spike, every cut and every tear.

Phil would have taken care of Clint if he were here. Phil would be gentle, giving him soft blankets until Clint was warm and comfortable again. Phil would hum and stroke Clint's hair, just how he liked it, until Clint was a puddle of happiness, purring contently in Phil's arms.

The worst had been when they had come back with some sort of spray that sprouted liquid nitrogen. Clint hadn't been able to stop himself from clenching up on the pear, driving the spikes deeper into his body from the inside out. That had been around the time that he'd run out of any moisture left in his body, unable to produce anymore tears.

But not blood. He still hadn't run out of that. Clint knew that it wasn't going to take long now, though. He didn't have enough blood to last too much longer, he knew that.

Phil would know. Phil knew everything.

Clint wondered idly, through the red haze of agony, if he was going to suffocate before he lost the rest of his blood. The tops of his feet dragged along the hard, gravely floor as he hung limply from the harsh chains. He'd been left alone to die now, but it was a slow process, apparently.

Phil would know how long it could take to die. He'd probably outline how each organ stops functioning at different points of each stage of death. He'd probably explain it all alphabetically, chronologically, and with PowerPoints to help Clint understand. Maybe even put in a few fun pictures. And a Q&A. And a crossword puzzle. Phil like crossword puzzles.

Clint could literally feel his lungs getting crushed as he wished again for strength he didn't have, so that he could lift himself for another breath. Then he wondered why he wanted to breathe so badly,- that just meant more time in pain. He couldn't handle this anymore. This had gone past unbearable long ago, and Clint wondered why he was still alive.

Phil would tell him why he's still alive. Phil knows everyone's secrets. He's full of secrets. That's why his head is so big. Or was it hair? Clint couldn't remember. But he knew that Phil knew what he meant.

Clint couldn't see. His eyes had long given up the fight to stay open.

Clint couldn't smell. The scent of blood had invaded his nostrils and soaked into his brain.

Clint couldn't hear. There was a ringing and muffled roar in his ears that wouldn't quiet down.

Clint didn't realize what was happening around him. He couldn't understand that he had been found, and that Phil had come with a team to save him. Clint didn't know that he was being called, yelled at, pleaded with, begged with to answer. He couldn't comprehend that what he wanted was just in front of him. Clint didn't know what he wanted.

Clint just wanted out. He wanted the pain to stop, even for just a little bit. He wanted to escape this place and get away as far as possible. He wanted to stop breathing so that he wouldn't have to deal with the choking, gasping struggle that was his life at the moment. Mostly, he just wanted to go home.

He wanted Phil.


	2. Have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil and Clint try something.

He had Phil.

Phil had been there when Clint had woken up,  drugged out of his mind and still in pain, only to see Phil's worried, scrunched-up face in the hospital. Phil had been there, when the doctor had laid out every injury, all the optimisms about successful surgeries and the times it would take to heal everything. Phil had been there through every minute of grueling physical therapy, hands only a second away from soothing or supporting Clint when he got too frustrated or angry. Phil had been there, listening to Clint without Clint ever saying a word.

Phil was there for Clint now, swallowing his cock down his throat, while they tried sex for the first time in months since Clint had been taken.

Clint sighed in frustration.

"Hey, it's okay, Clint." Phil said, letting Clint's barely half-hard dick slip out of his red and swollen mouth. He had on a concerned look, completely clashing with the fact that he had just been blowing Clint a few seconds ago.

Clint couldn't help curling his hands into fists, and tilting his head back in anger, his cheeks flushing red with humiliation. They'd been at this for the past twenty minutes, and he was sure Phil's jaw was aching and sore. "Fuck. Phil, I'm sorry, you don't have to-"

"I'm not doing anything I don't want to be doing, Clint." Phil interrupted, raising himself up to lean on his elbows on either side of Clint's hips, framing Clint's failure. Startled, Clint looked down at Phil, but was unable to hold his gaze. Instead, Clint scowled down at his useless cock before looking away again.

"Hey, stop that. The doctors said this could happen, and that it's perfectly normal for,-"

"I don't want it to be normal!" Clint yelled out. Immediately after, he mumbled, "Sorry."

Phil sighed, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "There's nothing to be sorry about, Clint." Phil pulled himself up further, and laid down next to Clint, pulling him into his arms. Clint went easily, burrowing his head into Phil's chest as Phil started softly stroking his fingers up and down Clint's back. The skin had healed over, but Phil could feel the ridges and grooves of the thousands of scars littering the whole expanse of his back. They'd fade away with time, but if Phil looked now, he'd just see multiple angry lines of red, crisscrossing throughout the skin.

"We don't have to do this tonight, you know. Just because the doctor okayed it, doesn't mean we have to jump right into this. Especially with what you want, Clint." Phil spoke softly, holding Clint against him.

Clint mumbled something against Phil's chest and shook his head. Gently, Phil pulled back and framed Clint's face to look up at him.

"What was that?"

"I said, I still want us to do it. I don't… I don't want…I just,-" Clint breathed in shakily.

"Hey. _Hey_. It's okay, Clint." Phil ducked down and kissed Clint's forehead.

"Please, Phil. I need this." Clint whispered, miserably.

Phil hugged Clint tighter, and breathed him in. "Of course, Clint. Anything you want. But we'll go slow, okay?" He felt Clint nod against him.

Phil pulled back again, only to draw Clint against him, kissing him deeply and thoroughly. He felt Clint relax and melt into the kiss, and Phil took the opportunity to let his hands caress every inch of scarred skin. His fingers traced the curve of Clint's hip, and then slipped down to pull at Clint's ass, letting Clint's body come flush with Phil's own.

Clint breathed out a moan, and was happy to let Phil lick into his mouth and completely drive out any other thought. Phil lightly squeezed Clint's ass at the same time that he nipped Clint's lower lip, and Clint just groaned, pushing his mostly-soft cock against Phil's hard one. Coulson grinned against Clint's jaw, and he gently sucked in the soft flesh of his throat between his teeth; he could feel Clint's groan vibrating low in his throat as he licked over the spot he had just worried.

"Feels good, Phil." Clint hummed as his own hands explored Phil's skin wherever he could reach.

"Good. I want to make you feel better, Clint." Phil murmured as he slowly pushed Clint onto his back so that he had more room to work with. Phil pulled one of Clint's knees towards his thigh so that he could reach under him easier. He kept Clint's mouth busy with soft, teasing kisses and licks, never letting him guess which one was going to be next.

Phil was in the middle of distracting Clint with his tongue licking its way inside Clint's mouth, when he gently circled Clint's hole with the pad of his finger.

Without warning, Clint flipped them both so that Phil was flat on his back with Clint's forearm pressing dangerously against Phil's throat, his whole body weight tensing behind him. Clint's eyes had widened enormously and his breaths had taken on a frantic turn as his other hand gripped Phil's wrist in a crushing hold.

The next moment, Clint suddenly backed off.

"Fuck! Fuck, I'm so sorry, Phil! Oh god, I didn't mean to,- fuck, I'm sorry, I'm so sor-"

"Clint, don't you dare apologize to me for this ever again." Phil's tone was hoarse from the sudden release but still forceful as he cut Clint off.

Clint flinched back and tried to get off Phil, but Phil was faster and already had his arms around Clint, pulling his body down over his own. Robbed of his balance, Clint fell down on top of Phil. The beginnings of another apology was on his lips, but Phil just squeezed Clint in a tight hug, and Clint huffed out a breath.

"You don't get to apologize for any of this. None of this is your fault, Clint." Phil said sternly, slowly rubbing Clint's back. They'd had this conversation many times before.

Clint wiggled a little in the tight hold, but then gave up and went limp. With his mouth pressed against Phil's chest, Clint mumbled, "But it's not fair to you, Phil, I just, -hmph!" Phil stopped the rest of that sentence with a fierce kiss.

Pulling back, Phil said, "Not fair? You know what's not fair? That you were taken from me. That you had to suffer horrifically. That you have nightmares and terrors and you fear innocent touches from people. That I didn't find you until you were practically d-dead." Phil's voice cracked on the last part. Phil sucked in a deep, shuddering breath and held it for a moment, trying to calm himself.

"That's what's not fair, Clint. Not the fact that I'm not "getting some" tonight." Clint could see the quotations around that phrase, and couldn't help the shudder that ran through his spine at Phil's words.

Clint closed his eyes and nestled into Phil's chest, concentrating on breathing when he stilled. They stayed like that for a while, limbs intertwined, just inhaling and exhaling and feeling the rise and fall of each other's breaths.

Finally, looking at Phil's chest hair that he'd been running his fingers through for the past ten minutes, Clint asked softly, "Can we still try?" The little bit of an erection he had managed to achieve earlier had long since disappeared, as had Phil's, but Clint was still determined.

Phil stopped carding his fingers through Clint's hair and hesitated before asking, "Are you sure you want to?"

Clint tensed, but he said, easily, "Yes. Please, Phil, I want this."

Phil sighed at Clint's reaction. "Okay. But I want to try something else, okay?" Phil waited until Clint had verbally agreed before he eased Clint off of him, and had him lie down on his stomach on the bed. Phil rolled up and then swung a leg over Clint's hips to straddle his ass. Clint flinched at the contact, but it was painfully obvious to Phil that he was consciously trying to relax himself.

"I'm just going to try and loosen you up another way, okay?" Phil said, bringing his hands up to slide across Clint's back. Clint hummed in acknowledgement and then sighed loudly when Phil began to massage his shoulders.

Phil took his time. He started off gently, almost sweetly caressing the skin before he began kneading a little deeper, digging into newly healed muscles. Clint was still sensitive on his back, but not as much as the weeks before when he could hardly stand the softest kind touch. Whenever it seemed to be too much for Clint, Phil would switch to a new spot, working the muscles over.

Clint had received many medical massages, but the way Phil was manipulating his body was making him melt into a puddle of goo. It also sent heat to his groin, and the faint twitching and filling of his cock made Clint all the happier. Soon, he couldn't help the groans of appreciation from mixing with those of arousal.

Arousal started winning when Phil began to plant heated kisses and licks along his back. Sometimes he would nip at the muscles he had just worked over, making Clint moan at the contrasting sensations. Clint noticed that Phil was slowly making his way down Clint's back until he was straddling his thighs and kneading into the globes of flesh on his ass. By that point, though, Clint was pleasantly surprised that he wasn't caring, too deep into his sedated state of bliss.

Clint was even more surprised when he felt Phil spread his ass cheeks apart, letting the air brush against his hole. Clint didn't have time to tense before he felt a hot tongue lick across his rim.

Clint cried out, and then the tongue was gone.

"No, no, go back, tha' felt good…" Clint slurred, pushing his hips backwards in search of that tongue again. He couldn't help the whimper that escaped him when the tongue returned and began to swirl around his hole, teasing and never quite going in.

"Fuuuuck, Phillll," Clint held out the last consonant of his name, turning it into a loud moan when the tongue finally pushed in past the ring of muscle, only to dart back out.

Phil kept up the teasing as he alternated between diving deep and licking around Clint's rim; he enjoyed the sounds that Clint was making as he got more and more desperate, whining whenever Phil pulled back.

Clint was completely pliant under Phil by the time Phil knelt back. He still whined at the loss, but Phil reach up and kissed his shoulders, quieting Clint for a moment.

"Can you roll onto your back for me? I want to see you." Phil nudged Clint's hip, and Clint moved like a sloth as he turned over. Phil couldn't help but laugh at Clint's unhurried pace.

"You look like a snail." Phil teased good-naturedly, chuckling when Clint landed on his back with a flop. Clint looked down to see that his cock had joined in the festivities and was almost fully hard.

"If I'm a snail, then don't poke my cock, or else it'll shrink back into its shell." Clint grumbled, grinning suddenly when he saw Phil almost lose it.

"That was a terrible joke, Clint. Absolutely horrendous." Phil choked out between stifled giggles.

Clint's smile split his face, and Phil couldn't help but bend over and kiss him filthily as he fitted himself in between Clint's legs. Clint took the opportunity to wrap his thighs and calves around Phil's waist.

Between sloppy kisses, Clint pleaded, "Please, Phil, I need you in me."

Phil groaned, and was helpless to that tone of voice. He reached down and guided his cock to Clint's loose hole. Clint managed not to flinch when he felt the blunt thickness of Phil's cock as he pressed against his rim. Phil rested his forehead against Clint's as he slowly, achingly pressed inside.

Clint's breath hitched and stuttered and his hands gripped tight on Phil's shoulder, but he pushed his hips back into Phil's, just as slowly. Finally, Phil was completely sheathed inside of Clint; both of their breaths were shaky as they shared each other's air for a long moment.

"M-move?" Clint gritted out, pulling Phil's chest against his own in a desperate need to be closer. Phil's hips pulled back and he pushed in again, relishing in the pure sound of arousal in Clint's moan. Phil began a steady pace of sliding in and out, never changing, and feeling triumphant when Clint's fists relaxed against his back.

"So good, Clint. God, I love you so much." Phil breathed against Clint's lips. Clint whimpered and surged upwards against Phil, locking his lips with his and starting to shake slightly when Phil snuck a hand around to palm Clint's erection.

"Phil," Clint whimpered, groaning when Phil began to match strokes on his cock with the gentle thrusts into him .

"There you go, just relax. Let me take care of you, Clint." Phil murmured into Clint's neck as he shifted slightly to angle deeper and to nudge against Clint's prostate. Clint was falling apart in every good way, panting and shuddering with every press inwards. His cock was hard and leaking into Phil's hand, and Clint had never felt so loved and cherished as he did in that moment.

Everything was going so smoothly and Clint was just hovering on the edge of coming, when he unexpectedly clenched around Phil, and then went stock still. He suddenly remembered shadows of people shoving the pear into his ass and him helplessly clenching around sharp spikes.

Phil immediately stopped, and searched Clint's face worriedly, "What's wrong, did I hurt you? Clint?" Clint couldn't speak for a moment, all of a sudden shivering. "Clint, talk to me, please." Phil wasn't moving an inch, trying to figure out Clint's headspace before he did anything. When Clint still didn't answer, he took a risk and started to ease out of Clint. That seemed to pull Clint out of his memories.

"Wait, no, hold on, I'm sorry. It's fine, I'm okay, it's okay." Clint rushed out hurriedly and breathlessly. Phil paused, and waited, watching Clint for guidance. Clint took a few shuddering breaths before forcibly relaxing his body.

Eventually he lowered his legs from around Phil's waist, but he kept his hold on Phil's back firm and close. "I don't think I can come with you inside yet." Clint whispered, cheeks filling with color as he averted his eyes from Phil's.

Phil brought a hand up to cup Clint's reddened cheek; Clint couldn't help turning into the touch and closing his eyes. "Shhh, it's okay." Phil spoke softly as he finished pulling out.

Phil placed a tender kiss against Clint's lips, and then shifted around for a moment. Clint gasped into Phil's mouth when Phil took both of their cocks in one hand and stroked from root to tip.

"Yesssss." Clint hissed out, quickly getting into the rhythm that Phil set out. Phil stroked the both of them as they both fucked into his hand. Clint started panting as he was brought to the edge again quickly.

"Please, Phil," Clint whimpered, clutching Phil even tighter.

"C'mon, come for me. Let me see you let go." Phil ordered, and Clint moaned loudly as he spilled over Phil's hand and cock. Seeing Clint falling apart under him set Phil off and he came all over Clint's stomach, still rubbing against his cock.

Clint shuddered through his orgasm, and he held so tight to Phil's shoulders that he was sure there were going to be bruises there later. He abruptly realized he was shivering again as he relaxed his grip to slide his hands down to Phil's waist. He suddenly felt tearful when he saw how Phil looked down on him with an adoring expression on his face.

"Hey, shhh, you're okay. You're fine, Clint. That was amazing, I'm so proud of you." Phil praised, pressing light kisses all over Clint's face. The gestures made Clint smile unabashedly.

Clint felt too far away from Phil, so he circled his arms around him again to close the few inches of space between them. Phil wasn't expecting it and was robbed of his balance, flopping down on top of Clint and smearing their shared mess between them.

"Hmph! Clint, what…?" Phil began, but was interrupted by Clint's mouth on his.

Breaking apart for a moment, Clint breathed, "I love you so much, Phil."

Phil smiled warmly and murmured back, "I love you too, Clint."

Clint smiled even wider and settled with Phil in his arms. He was so happy in that moment.

After all,

He had Phil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked it! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Clint.


End file.
